


Two Steps Forward, No Steps Back

by thistooshallpass



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Novel, The Actual Edited version of it, yknow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 08:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12744303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistooshallpass/pseuds/thistooshallpass
Summary: Have you ever been drawn to the woods, perhaps as a child, or a particularly adventurous adult? Did you ever feel the lust for adventure make it's home in your veins, at the sheer thought of climbing a mountain's summit? Or did you ever feel your muscles twitch at the thought of sailing a river slowly, making your way deep into the heart of somewhere only the water could take you? Or even a path deep in the woods, the fork in the hikers trail that only you seem to see?You may have been closer than you think.





	1. The First Few Steps

  He adjusted the hat on his head, pulling it down, attempting to fight off the chill in the air. He checked the time on the smartphone that had been bought for him, even with the knowledge of what he was about to do next. The clear numbers shone through the night’s mist, creating an eerie effect in the vapor around him. The artificially bright screen told him it was only fifteen minutes to midnight, and the alarm he had set previously caused it to vibrate in his hand. No sound echoed from the piece of tech, the chimes the thing tended to make annoyed him to no end. His shoulders ached, as he had been walking for quite some time. The bag on his shoulder was beginning to painfully dig into his flesh, weighted unevenly on his shoulders and creating an unwelcome strain on his muscles. But it was time to dispose of these possessions, anyway.

  With as much strength as the boy had, he launched the expensive phone into the cracked pavement, pavement with chunks missing or replaced with gravel in haste. The forest was slowly reclaiming it’s space, slowly taking the world back to where it once had free roam. The street lights behind him shone softly, making the harsh yellow of their glow seem almost pleasant in the dull fog. He dropped the heavy backpack, opening it up quickly and taking out a binder full of nothing important, two textbooks, phone charger, and anything else the others had assured him was worth lugging around everyday. The bag made an extremely satisfying thud as he dropped it, one that reverberated through the pavement under his feet, and he hoped something within it broke. The only thing he left in the bag was his coil-bound sketchbook and a closed metallic tin, that he believed at one point had contained cigars. It certainly smelled that way, at least. Pulling the now almost empty bag over his head, adjusting it on the shoulder it rested on, he felt good. He felt free again.

  The forest began like every other wooded area; a few hiking trails, a more defined trail for bikers, where the earth was worn down by decades of tires. The air hung light around him, easily bouncing off his skin. He walked slowly, keeping his eyes on the trail in till the soft glow of the streetlights behind him no longer bounced off the moisture on the leaves that had fallen in the past few weeks, leaving him only the light from the moon to rely on.

  He loved these woods. Sure, the outer layers weren’t much to look at, only simple, normal sized trees with the odd ground coverage, mostly foliage, but he still loved it. The year was now drawing to an end, autumn had fallen once again. Trees this far out had begun the gradual shift of hues first, but for reasons these people wouldn’t understand, the yellows and reds were much less pigmented the farther he pushed. These people wouldn’t understand anything.

  His mother had been right, he wouldn’t enjoy it here, he wouldn’t thrive like he had promised her. What was the point of it? Technology, he scoffed to himself into the dark. He was ashamed to be a human, almost embarrassed to show his face back home. They were so attached to, well, nothing. They attached themselves to the silliest things, to things that gave them nothing in return but false security. He couldn’t handle what they faced every day, the things they did to themselves. Humans were so destructive, he couldn’t bare another day to wake up to more lives lost, the sound of those horrifying sirens. The sound still bounced around in his head if he thought about it, disorienting him like the first time he heard them.

  The path began to fade away, until the foliage gave way to large roots butting out of the ground. He stopped only for a moment, fishing a matchbox out of a pouch from the bag over his side, and a cream coloured pillar candle out of a pocket he had sewn in himself. Another feature of their world is they had no idea how to make functioning clothes, apparently. He had to sew deeper and functional pockets into his pant legs himself. The candle didn’t provide much light, but it was enough to assure he’d be at least able to see where he was stepping. He heaved a great sigh, already feeling the anxiety he held in his heart ebbing away slowly. The leaves above him grew higher and denser, until they clotted together and blocked the light of the moons and stars almost completely. The leaves that had already succumb to autumn clustered where the ground lay uneven, reminding him almost of a gentle wave. The only light in what might have been miles was from his own hand now.

  The melting wax began to drip down his fingertips, but he paid no real mind to it. The night air held a chill and seemed to cling heavier to him now, sending the chill straight through him, as if fighting to get to his bones, to be a part of him. The hot wax was a brief comfort against his exposed fingers, not burning hot enough to cause him any pain.

  He could do nothing now, but walk. Tightening the strap of the bag over his shoulder, he pressed forward. He walked until he felt he could no longer feel his feet, until it felt he was barely moving of his own will. All he knew was he had to keep going, had to keep his pace quick. The candle never stayed steady in this pace, and Perrin doubted he was very quiet, but he couldn’t afford to care. He wanted to reach the Dast by the light of the next day in the very least, knowing full well it would be his own grave if he reached the walls in the cloak of darkness. He could hear the sounds of running water, faintly, knowing The Owhon was now only several miles away. He had made progress.

  He stopped suddenly, and blew a quick breath blowing the candle out in less than a moment. In an instant, the cold air that the heat of the small flame had held off escaped him, and he felt a shiver take over his body, as the cold pressed into his skin like thin spikes. He could hear one of them in the distance; the whisper over the wind. The air had gone from stagnant and cool, to a warm breeze that whispered endearment to him; he knew one was near. He simply stood still, before crouching to the ground as low as he could, short of actually laying down on the ground. He could feel the warm air that held the faint smell of iron and the sickly sweet of a decaying flower flutter above him, pushing and expanding, searching for the warm little life form it had just touched.

  He pulled the hat off quickly, shoving it into the pocket of the jacket that clung to him. The air barely grazed the top of his head, and even now exposed, the chill didn’t take him as it should have. Humans should never be on the ground this far into the Northern forest. He felt a brief spike of fear draw through his chest, he wasn’t particularly fond of becoming a certain antler-ed creature’s meal this night, or whatever else the creature might do with him. Wendigos, for all their strengths, would never go near a Cervidae or Capreolinae that carried humans. No matter how domestic the creatures may have been to their humans, they were dangerous, not to be trifled with. It wasn’t worth the potential meal.

  When the wind passed on, as he knew it would, he lifted the candle back up into the air. Drawing another match, he re-lit the candle once again, embracing the halo of warmth the small flame provided. He pulled the pocket knife out, to move it to the jacket pocket instead. He needed to be able to grab it faster if it came to it.

  He lifted the candle up, feeling a cold knot seize up in his chest. He didn’t realize the cold air had shifted from the crisp of an autumn night to something of death, the smell of decay filling his lungs and pushing out the clean air he had missed so dearly. In front of him was the broken rib cage of one of the Capreolinae, an elk of some sort was what he assumed. It towered above him, the rib cage alone reaching heights of a four or five story building.

  He would have put his hand to the giant bone in comfort had there not been bits of flesh still clinging to the bones. This wasn’t a good sign. Capreolinae should never be taken down like this, not this far towards the edges of the land. His only comfort was the fact there was no hide left, nor any signs of humans, meaning either the humans who resided on its back had either moved on, or the elk had been uninhabited. Neither of which were good options, but better than a possibility of a family or small settlement being destroyed, or a nerd’s member being lost. He knew firsthand how much it hurt to lose your family’s home. With a heavy sigh, he continued his trek deeper. He couldn’t linger around the corpse, there would be too many scavengers, both human and not, attracted by this.

  The roots began to grow bigger and bigger as he pushed deeper, no foliage to speak of anymore. The leaves that had fallen were much larger now, the size of his head rather than his fist. He had to physically pull himself up over the boulder sized roots, finding it increasingly difficult as he had no real free hands, one holding the candle (which had almost completely glued his fingers together with wax) and the other with what they called a laptop bag over the shoulder, threatening to slide down. The ground was frustratingly uneven, and he had to be careful as not to slip in the autumn night’s moisture. He pulled himself up one side of a root and as he set his toes down, he noticed the ground dropped several feet. His walking took a serious halt at that point, as he had to slide and maneuver his way down the root to solid ground. This wasn’t much of an issue until he faced another block; a downed tree.

  Now, in most woods, a downed tree wouldn’t be too hard to get around. Climb over it like a root, or simply walk around, right? Not here. The tree was easily a story and a half tall, and by the moon, who knew how long it was. From the looks of it, it could go on for miles, and in the dark, he had no idea which end would lead to the roots and which would lead to the branches. He simply didn’t have the time to try his luck.

  With another heavy sigh, he reluctantly blew out the candle, prying it off of his hand. He took a few minutes to deal with this, prying the wax off his fingers and shoving the chunks into his pocket with the candle that was easily half the size as it had been. There was no point in wasting so much wax, he could make another candle with it once he got home. When his fingers were (mostly) free from the frozen wax, he pushed his hands against the bark.

  The night air had grown colder, the forest air hung thick around him. The bark of the tree was mossy, damp, and slippery. It felt like a layer of slug slime hung off the branches, and he clenched his teeth at the feeling. If he would miss anything about the other world, it would have be how remarkably clean everything was. He began to hoist himself up, a careful and slow process. He would extend his reach as far as he could within his arm range, looking for deep enough notches.

  His upper body strength wasn’t perfect, and his feet protested the strain in his already cold toes, but he didn’t weigh a lot, which helped the process a fair amount. It was so slow going, he was worried the sun would rise before he could find proper shelter, and he’d be out in the open. He was better at being careful in the night, he embraced the darkness with ease. He didn’t fear what he couldn’t see. It was only in the days light when his eyes could pay tricks on him.

  When he finally reached the top of the massive tree, his arms and shoulders were in agony. Sitting carefully, he let himself lean his head back. Even under the canopy of leaves the massive trees provided them with, high up like this, there were the traces of a breeze. He loved it, even if the chill struck his bones, he loved everything about it. By the moon, he had missed this.

  Sitting on the massive log, he was suddenly faced with a huge problem. How, in the name of the moon and the old gods, was he _ever_ supposed to get down? He couldn’t simply jump, knowing full well it would mean his grave. He couldn’t stand to walk one way or the other, not have the time. He was vulnerable here, and he didn’t want to be caught here when light fell.

  He didn’t dare stand up on his perch, not wanting to test the slippery, mossy bark more than he already was. He tucked the bag from his hip, so it would lay across his back instead, scooting forward in a way that would have been violently humiliating if any one was around to watch him. He cringed, feeling the moisture on the back of his thighs, even through his jeans that he thought were thick enough to handle his home.

  Dangling his legs carefully over the rounded peak, he kicked his heels into the bark, looking for any groove thick enough to rest his weight on. Climbing up two stories was one thing, climbing down was a bit more distressing. It was much too dark to see even his own feet when he swung them down, let alone the bottom of the trunk itself. Very carefully, he turned himself onto his knees, finding enough of a grip on the wet bark to wrap his fingers over. He used the toe of his shoe to kick into the bark, desperate for a ledge.

  He didn’t trust his grip, thinking he could feel the weight of his body pulling the soaked bark from the massive tree. He felt panic rising from the pit of his stomach to his chest, creeping into his throat like a creature inside of him. He decided it was time to pull himself back up to his perch, before the stress reached the point of no return. Just as he reached the top, he felt the piece of bark he’d been gripping tear free. He felt the cold panic rise in his throat like a tidal wave, feeling himself almost topple backwards. When he had his ass firmly back on the bark, he tossed the chunk of wood that had torn off in his hand as far as he could out of the rising frustration.

  He kicked his heel into the wood, making a face as his ankle, the tendon, made contact with a hard piece of bark. Pain shot up the back of his leg, and he winced. His leg shot back up, bent at the knee as a reaction to the pain. He actually tumbled backwards that time, luckily being saved by the sheer width of the tree he was currently stuck on. He struggled to breathe for a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall too rapidly for the situation. He forced himself to calm down, holding a hand over his chest to imagine himself pressing the panic down. Sitting back up, he looked into the darkness and felt a crack of hopelessness spread inside him like frost on glass.

  Out of what seemed like nowhere, a rumble from the distance caught him off guard. He gripped his perch the best he could, staring off into the darkness. He took a moment to catch his breath from the fresh shot of panic the noise sent through him, letting his chest rise and fall silently. Every few seconds, the trees would shake above him, and even through the impossibly thick wood underneath him, he could feel the vibration emanating up and into his very bones. He knew that feeling all too well, and based on the weight it carried, he knew exactly what was behind it. The panic started to fade as quickly as it had risen, and he felt a smile take his face. He had no reason to fear a Capreolinae.

  The vibrations grew closer. He spread his fingers out across the wood, enjoying the familiar rumble through the wet of the bark beneath him. He didn’t dare light his candle again, not for fear of being seen this time. It was rare for a Capreolinae to be wandering at this time of night, especially in this area of the woods. He didn’t want to risk even the smallest flame causing a fright. Though he may have been hours away from modern life, it was rare to see other humans taking the risk. It was safest in the deepest the Capreolinae could go.

  The rumbling grew deafening, until he knew the creature couldn’t be more than a mile away. By now the heavy falling of hooves shook the trunk he was gripping, jostling him from his position every time it stepped down.  
By some miracle, just as the creature drew into what previously wouldn’t have been visible, another gush of wind rushed him. The thick canopy above his head parted, if only for a moment. Silvery light, speckled by stray leaves shone down right in front of him, as if the moon herself had reached down and granted him sight. There it was.

  The Capreolinae he saw, if only for a moment, was one of the rarer ones to find so far away from the north. It was what they called in the mainland a reindeer, but this creature had one significant difference. It towered as high as the skyscrapers that filled cities, a rack of antlers that bent and curved so high, if it weren’t for the canopy above them, there would have been clouds dancing between the spaces.

He breathed out a quiet whistle, breath taken by it even if he had seen it before. You tend to forget how magnificent these beasts are from the ground.

  It went past him slowly, as no Capreolinae of that size could move very quickly. It was so close he could feel it, the warmth the living creature radiated. It created a breeze as it walked past, massive legs stirring the frigid air and blowing the hair out of his face. The musk that thick northern fur carried was potent, and he had to refrain from covering his nose with his sleeve. He had been absent too long, he had nearly forgotten.

  By the time the vibrations began to lessen, great crashes on the forest floor becoming less bone-rattling, he was back to dealing with his current conflict. Between the joy of seeing a beloved creature, the stress of his situation, and the crisp air from his elevation, his guard went down just a fraction. Just enough he didn’t note the breeze that ran through his hair like fingers carried a warmth. A fraction just small enough that the air took that scent again, too sweet it was almost sour, like a decaying flower. It didn’t occur to him he was still in danger.

  By the time he noticed the air had become too thick, it was too late. The air held weight that the open space should never have, and warmth that the season shouldn’t have either, wrapping around his shoulders like a caress. He panicked, throwing himself backwards as a first instinct. He winced when his back collided with the wet bark underneath him, as he pressed himself as low as he possibly could.

  He felt the warmth press forward, and he even tilted his feet towards each other, anything to throw the living tendrils of air. He stayed still as a corpse, barely allowing himself to breathe, despite how hard his heart was hammering away in his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed, willing the warmth to pass. He didn’t want to become a meal, not so soon on return. When the chill returned, he let himself sigh, but the relief came too soon.  
When he opened his eyes, he was greeted to two very yellow, very bright ones, not inches away from his face. The eerie light illuminated the creatures face, even though he heard the grin in is tone even before he caught glimpse of it. A voice all too familiar cut through the darkness. Oh no. Not soon soon. By the moon, _please no_!

“Hello Perrin.”


	2. Deeper

  Perrin shot up in alarm, causing a collision with the other boy above his head. He felt the solid _thunk!_ of bone colliding with bone, and felt pain creep from the point of impact to his temples. Over the ringing in his ears, he heard the other boy grumble in pain.

“What,” the other boy groaned, holding his hand over the point of contact, “in the _w’rld_ wast that f’r?”  
Perrin snorted at him, brushing off the thighs off his jeans like he had somewhere to be, someone important to see, and wanted to look presentable.   
“The fact you think I did that on purpose astounds me, firstly.” He huffed, crossing his arms like his head wasn’t still pounding (and his ears weren’t still ringing.) The other boy only snickered.

  The other boy was someone Perrin knew very well, even if it had been years (at least for Perrin) since their last meeting. He was tall, it was one of the first things people noticed about him, but that wasn’t unusual for wendigos (or in his case, half). But as most of his kind would have been rotten flesh, skeletal beasts with heads made of a deer’s skull, corruption of flesh and spirit, he was different. Perrin only knew this because he knew the boy, but he knew his mother had been a kind of nymph, a spirit of light that had fallen in love with a beast of darkness. The light in him kept the other boy looking almost human, save for the scarred tissue where his heart would lie. But his skin was as dark as the night around him, only marred by the scars of the flesh he had collected in his years of life in the woods.

  But his face was always friendly, always charming, framed by soft curls he could almost feel in his fingers again, the antlers sprouting out of his head were barely more than a satyr’s length at times like this. They were also covered in soft curls, turning them black/brown in colour, though the hair was much coarser, and too short to notice the curls if you weren’t close with him. The pattern of the antlers was unlike most deer, growing oddly out of their main form, and turning thin to blend into the branches in the darkness.

  Perrin realized he had been staring when the other boy laughed again, a little louder than the first snicker. He secretly praised the deep darkness around them, knowing his face was growing warm.

“You haven’t changed a did bite.” The boy laughed, the Northerner accent bleeding through his (also very Northern) vocabulary. Perrin’s face only got warmer and he huffed at the boy again.

  Perrin ignored this comment, wanting to cross his arms to further iterate how annoyed he was but, unfortunately, the fact they were already crossed took away from the effect. The other boy laughed again, that was starting to get on his nerves.

“Good now, so you have changed yourself. Valorous thee.” He waved his hand in dismissal at him, like he didn’t believe him one bit. And odds are, he didn’t He still had that awful grin on his face, lips pressed tight enough to reveal teeth that Perrin knew were sharp as needles. Perrin only glared at him, hating how warm his face felt despite the chilly air around them. The other boy turned and looked down and into the darkness, the breeze that only he could feel making his hair move on his own accord.

  He turned back to Perrin sharply.  
“How wast you expecting to receive down?” He asked, and Perrin swore he could taste the trace of smug in his tone. He sighed.  
“I was going to climb down, if that wasn’t in sense to you.” He snapped, putting an exaggerated accent on a common Northern phrase. The other boy frowned.

“If't be true, you shall fall. If’t you fall, you shall perish.” He stated, his tone leaving no room for Perrin to argue. He extended a hand to him, offering that held more peace than he could imagine.

“Allow me to help. I’ve did miss you, love.”

  The other boy offered Perrin his hand, and he simply examined it for a moment. His skin blended into the night almost seamlessly, long slender fingers almost disappearing in the dark. Almost. He wanted to take it, but no matter what his past with the other boy was, he had learned distrust.

“Why would you help?” Perrin questioned. His tone might have conveyed his distrust, but his hand betrayed him, already rising from his side and hanging empty in the air, ready to take his offer at any moment. The other boy only sighed.  
“Is't so hard to believe I did miss you?” He asked quietly, like he felt bad for saying it. Perrin could feel guilt starting to creep up his bones, but the other boy went on.  
“’t wasn't the same without you,” He admitted, hand falling slightly. “There’s been unrest across the land.”

  He felt the guilt deepen, the cold that felt anchored to his bones only worsening with the fear settling in the pit of his stomach. The chilly air making the rising anxiety feel like a shock to his system. Before his mind could race, the other boy had moved his hand to his shoulder. Perrin closed his eyes, breathing in as deeply as his lungs would let him. He may not trust the other boy fully, but it was still grounding. He took a deep breath.

“If you get me down, I need you to catch me up on everything that’s happened in the last, um. The last?” He opened his eyes, meeting the others boy’s intense gaze.   
“Time moves differently outside this place, Sorën, you know this. How long have I been gone?”  
You could see that the boy was thinking, amber eyes shining.

“Two hundr'd seventy-three days. Been gone half the autumn, love, winter creeps nearer ev’ry moment.” Sorën took his hand off the other boy’s shoulder, offering it again.   
“Prithee, allow me help you.”

  Perrin sighed, heavily, perhaps a little louder and more melodramatic than possibly needed. But he slid his hand into the other’s slowly. His skin was cool against Perrin’s palm, somehow a comfort even in the chilled air. Sorën grinned wider, needlepoint teeth on full display. He felt a shiver creep up his spine at the sight, but not with fear. The air began to grow warmer around them.

  Sorën used his grip to pull Perrin into his chest, as the boy went red. He knew fully well Sorën would laugh at the sight, and he silently blessed the moon for the darkness. He felt Sorën’s arms wrap around him, as his arms crumpled against the other boy’s chest.

  He felt them lift off the soggy bark, and he could feel how the arm around them seemed to cradle their bodies. He took the moment to close his eyes, letting himself relax, if only for a moment. If he had been so close to any other body, he would have been concerned about the lack of heartbeat. But he knew Sorën, he knew his chest held no such beat, no gentle drumming. He had never questioned him about it, and perhaps he never would. He knew from their past that the rotten looking scar over where his heart should lay was a bit of a sore spot, metaphorically and literally.

  They descended so softly in the darkness, Perrin would have called it floating. Would have, mind, if it hadn’t been abruptly interrupted by a mighty noise in the distance. Breaking Sorën’s concentration, the soft currents broke, sending the two boys to hit the ground and collapse in a heap. Perrin, shaken, pushed himself up first, checking first to make sure his bag had survived, and then patting at his jacket pocket to check if he still had his knife as a defense.

“What, pray tell,” Perrin snapped, trying to cover the shake in his voice, “was that. No thunder or beast I can recall roars like that.”  
Sorën sighed, pulling himself up. He brushed himself off as Perrin rushed to relight his candle, his precious light source. They started to walk, Sorën falling a few steps behind the other boy, as if avoiding the light’s touch.

“I did gage an explanation, didn’t I?” He commented, not looking at the other boy. Perrin sensed the unease in the tone, truly, the unease that sat in the very air. It may have been late, but the more they walked, the quieter and tighter the air felt. There was barely a noise to be heard.

  Perrin knew exactly where he entered, had a very good idea of where he was in his home. He knew there were swamplands and riverbeds only several miles to the south, but yet, not a creature could be heard. The only thing that could be heard was his own breathing as his pace quickened, and the crunch of leaves under foot. He heard Sorën’s sigh from behind him.

“While you w're gone, the Barnett family did rise to the throne in Wheyl'r, while the South abolish'd the monarchy from the Rik's mountains.” Sorën explained, pausing at the end as if to say something else. He only shook his head instead. “t's been tense, love, th're's been whispers of conflict.”

  Perrin scoffed, he couldn’t believe what the other boy was suggesting.   
“We don’t rush to conflict here. We aren’t like them, we don’t war like the creatures that live beyond these trees.”

  He turned his head, giving the other boy a pointed look through the dull light.  
“Do you have any idea what they do outside the safety of this land?”   
The other boy shook his head, eyes catching the golden light of the flame. Perrin turned away from him, pace only quickening.

He thought at a mile a minute, opening his mouth to explain, but only one word fell out.

“Good”

  It was Sorën’s turn to scoff, moving to keep up with the other boy. Perrin cut him off before he could say more.  
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, alright? Please.” The other boy softened at that, only smiling when Perrin knew he was burning with more questions.

“Welcome back to Saprosal.”


End file.
